The Definition of Normal
by xox Moony xox
Summary: Following Tony’s accident things are set to change, and for some, nothing will ever be the same again. Sequel to Settling For Second Best.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating: **PG-13 for language and sexual references.

**Pairing:** Maxxie/Tony with hints of Tony/Michelle.

**Spoilers: **The whole of series 1. Yes, I do mean _all_ of it.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, blah, blah, blah.

**Summary: **Following Tony's accident things are set to change, and for some, nothing will ever be the same again.

**Chapter 1**

I pull my shirt over my head and stare at my pale reflection in the mirror. It's my uniform, blue and white stripes, so conformed and nothing like anything that's happened lately. Since returning from Brighton things went from bad to worse - just when I thought things might work out. We arrived back in Bristol, attended college like usual on Monday morning and he simply stopped talking to me, exactly like everyone else. No one talked to us, we didn't talk to them and we didn't talk to each other either. We pretended like nothing had happened. Well, Tony did anyway.

Then came the whole ordeal with Effy and I was forced to pretend, too. It suddenly didn't matter. There were more important things to deal with. Tony's sister could have died, she'd spent several days lying in a hospital bed and he'd been scared shitless. I worried of course, but I didn't get told a lot about the whole situation. I'd been alienated from the group and no one cared to share what was going on.

So I carried on regardless, I allowed myself to become isolated. That was, right up until Anwar's birthday anyway. He was – I mean, he _is_ my best friend; I could hardly ignore him on his birthday no matter how much of an asshole he'd been. At his party everything changed, and that was when it happened. Things had been going well (as well as they could do when we're involved) and then we'd heard the ambulance. The music stopped, several plates hit the floor and there was a mass scramble for the door. Michelle and Effy were stood beside the ambulance, clinging onto each other and both sobbing loudly.

Nobody knew what to do. I think we were all convinced he was going to die. But Tony's strong, he wasn't about to go out like that. He'd been unconscious for two days, most of which Michelle sat at his bedside, taking it in turns with his parents and his sister. We all knew why. She'd made sure we all knew. He loved her and he'd told her so. But it wasn't a secret. Deep down we'd all known all along, even she had, no matter how much she chose to deny it.

Visiting Tony was something I'd had to build up to. He was better now of course, a lot better – sitting up in bed, making demands on the nurses and belittling everyone else (some things never change), but it had taken me so much to pluck up the courage to walk through those hospital doors today.

Tony's lying in bed with his back to me, sleeping (I think he is anyway). He hasn't any other visitors. Since he woke up, his parents have been spending less time in the ward. Michelle hasn't, although she's at college right now, so I'm pretty sure I'm OK. I decided to skip afternoon classes so that I could see him without interference from anyone else. That was the general idea at least.

I don't like hospitals; they smell of disinfectant and the waiting rooms of stale coffee. The chair beside Tony's bed isn't exactly comfortable and there's a blanket draped over the back of it from when Michelle slept over. They stopped her doing that a couple of weeks ago. I'm not entirely sure why.

He's definitely asleep, so I take it upon myself to look at the get well cards on the table beside his bed. The first one I pick up is from Cassie; it looks as though she's made it herself, it's covered in glitter and pieces of coloured card, the words 'be happy' scrawled across the front in big curly handwriting. The next is from Sid and his father, it's nothing extravagant, shiny white card with the usual words embossed upon it. Third is Michelle's with its over the top verse and a dozen kisses inside. I hadn't bothered to send a card.

Putting down Michelle's card, I bring a hand to my mouth, hesitantly chewing on my thumbnail as I gaze at his sleeping form. He looks so incredibly peaceful lying there and I wonder for a moment whether I should stay or not. I've seen him now, I know he's OK; I've been given the reassurance I needed. It's probably better for everyone – especially for Tony – if I just carry on pretending. He loves Michelle after all, not me.

I drop my hand back down to my side, leaning forwards slightly in my seat to get a better look at him. One of the nurses has been stood at the end of the bed, looking over his charts, occasionally shooting a glance in my direction. She tells me how he's been sleeping a lot lately and how his girlfriend is beginning to get antsy. He's been faking it when Michelle's around though, or so she thinks anyway. Sometimes the constant attention can get too much. The nurse smiles, all teeth, and then adds softly, 'He'll appreciate a new visitor.'

There's nothing I can say in reply to that, so I simply offer her a smile and reach out for Tony's hand, brushing my thumb over his palm, my eyes downcast. I won't lie about it, I'd been convinced he was going to die too; I'd gone home that night and cried myself to sleep. Things had been getting back to normal, and then… The thought alone had broken me. My mum had spent half of the night outside my bedroom door trying to get me to talk to her. How could I talk to her about it? How could I talk to _anyone_?

The nurse walks off again after patting me lightly on the shoulder. We're finally alone and I'm actually glad he's asleep for the first time in my life. Bowing my head, slowly lacing my fingers in-between his, I let a very soft sigh go and close my eyes. How did I ever let things go this far? I'd wanted to play Tony at his own game and instead ended up becoming infatuated with him.

Christ, why am I here? Snatching my hand away again, I rise from the chair and wrap my arms around my torso as I stare down at him. He hasn't moved yet. Shifting my gaze to the clock on the wall, I frown, Michelle will be finishing her classes soon and I don't have much time left. It's probably better that he's asleep, it will make saying goodbye easier. He needs to be with the person he loves, I just get in the way; it's all I've ever done.

It's now or never. I glance around the ward quickly and then sure there's no one watching, I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, whispering, 'Have a nice life, Tone.' Pulling back, briefly stroking his hair, I force a smile and then turn on my heel to leave. I'm dying inside. A small part of me is dying. But this is for the best, after everything that's happened he needs to get back to normality and that's something I can't give him… ever.

Saying goodbye is the best thing for everyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Psychology is boring, but then, things have never quite been the same since Russia and the party. Most of us spend the hour staring down at our hands and carry out instruction without complaint. Angie's changed a lot over the past couple of weeks. She point-blank refuses to make eye contact with Chris during classes now. Of course, it's a completely different situation behind closed doors. We get regular updates as to what's going on from Chris; he can't stop talking about her.

Michelle used to be like that about Tony. She's stopped now and rather abruptly at that. As her visits continue, she's mentioning him less and less. It's been a week since I stopped by at the hospital and for the first time in five days, I overhear her mention his name to Jal. Leaning back in my chair, careful not to topple backwards off its legs, I strain my ears to hear what she's saying. Something about tomorrow, something is happening tomorrow. With my hand gripping the edge of the table, I lean a little further back and turn my head towards her.

I can just about pick out her words. He's coming out of hospital tomorrow. I blink; I hadn't expected it to be so soon.

Biting down on my lip as I think about it, my chair is suddenly pulled back onto four feet as Chris grasps the front of my shirt and whispers into my ear to leave Michelle alone. Angie's gazing over at us looking annoyed. Perhaps he's right. I decide to do as he says, pick up my pen and begin to scribble down a few rough notes onto the sheet of paper in front of me.

Ten minutes later the bell sounds and I scramble to collect my things together, making a beeline for the door, Chris and Anwar right behind me. I don't get too far though, by the time I reach the second block of lockers I hear Michelle call out my name. Stopping in my tracks, I glance back over my shoulder at her, consciously toying with the strap of my record bag. For a moment the other guys hang back, but I quickly tell them it's OK and they continue on their way.

'Hi, Max,' she says when she eventually catches up with me. Her eyes are glued to the floor and she has her hands anxiously shoved into the belt loops of her jeans. I'm about to reply her greeting, when she continues without warning, 'I just want to ask you a question.'

I look at her, give her my full attention, and then nod my head as we continue to walk down the hall. Do I really want to know what this question is, because if she's about to start quizzing me about what's going on between myself and Tony I'd rather escape in all honesty. God knows why I'm agreeing to this conversation. I'm too eager to please that's the trouble, I really am.

'Did you go and visit Tony last week?' she asks eventually, her words quiet.

Is this a trick question? If I say yes is she going to go all Charlie's Angels on my ass? Talking to Michelle is a scary feat these days. I usually try and avoid it if I can. She's a lovely person of course; she just doesn't like me anymore. I'm the enemy, just like Abigail is. What a category to be placing myself in, but there you have it. In Michelle's mind, I'm exactly the same as she is.

Allowing my gaze to fall to the limonium floor, I kick at an imaginary stone, swallow down my nerves and answer briskly, 'Yes.'

Wow, so articulate.

Michelle forces a smile and slows down her pace. Several seconds later we've stopped walking and we're looking at each other face on. She's chewing on her lower lip, obviously thinking over whatever she's about to say. She actually looks sick to the stomach. 'He doesn't talk to me anymore,' she says softly. 'He won't.' Quite clearly becoming agitated, she sighs. 'Has he said anything to you?'

The least I can do is be honest, so I shake my head and offer her a very weak but sympathetic smile. 'He was asleep,' I answer her. 'I didn't get to speak to him.'

Looking to the ceiling, Michelle shakes her head and whispers, 'All I want is for things to go back to normal, to the way they were before.' Don't we all. She lets a breath go and as she brings her gaze back to me, she smiles faintly.

But what exactly is normal, especially where Tony's concerned? He's always been so erratic. How can anyone pinpoint usual behaviour for Tony? Michelle's idea of normal would be getting back together with him and forgetting about everything and everyone else. She's dreaming of course, it's pretty clear that he's going to have changed. He got hit by a bus for fucks sake; he'll be celebrating the fact that he's still alive, not worrying about making everybody happy. She's hoping for too much too soon, that's the trouble.

It seems we're done now, she doesn't say anything more to me, simply walks off to go and find Jal. I glance around somewhat apprehensively, wrap my arms around myself and set off in the same direction Michelle had. Lunchtime could be spent in the green, as usual, remembering happier times when everyone got along. We've separated off into three individual groups these days. Tony had always been the binding that brought everyone together, and without him, we're completely lost.

Unsurprisingly, Sid and Cassie spend all of their time together in their mixed-up, mashed up little world. Since she abandoned going to Scotland with her parents, she'd been staying with an Aunt on the very outskirts of Bristol. Although it was only temporary and as soon as summer came to an end she'd have to make her way up North. She and Sid had decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

Some days, I like to watch them. Sid still has trouble getting used to Cassie's eccentric ways, so his awkwardness is always a joy to behold. Only two days ago, she sat for half an hour making him a daisy chain and then insisted he wear it for the rest of the day. That had gone down a storm in history.

Michelle and Jal were the same as they always had been (with the exception of Kenneth hanging around every now and again), lying around on the grass and talking about everyone else. Some days they would venture into town to do some shopping, other days they'd stay put.

As for me, I spend day in day out with Chris and Anwar. At least some things are back to normal. Today is no exception. I find them sat in the middle of the green, Chris casually smoking a rollup with a dazed expression on his face, while Anwar picks at a sandwich, his gaze fixed pointedly to the group of girls who are on their way past.

'Did I manage to miss the Angie talk?' I ask as I take a seat, placing my bag down beside me and grinning cheekily in Chris's direction. It isn't much of a shock when I get smacked around the back of the head with his psychology book.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Three days later I find myself staring down at my phone, a number I don't recognise flashing up on the screen. It's the fourth time they've rung, but I've yet to answer it, I'm reluctant to. I know that Tony's back home now after Sid mentioned it yesterday and there's a chance that it's going to be him. I don't think I'm entirely ready to talk to him yet.

Staring out of the window and picking the phone up, I let it ring once more and then send the call to answer phone. No, I definitely can't do it. With a sigh, I toss the handset aside and lie down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling and raking my hands into my hair. I figure he'll give up eventually, if I ignore him enough. I'd rather that not be the case because my heart gives a tiny flutter every time the phone springs to life, but it's probably for the best.

I roll onto my side and begin to feel sleep casting its spell over me. It's not worth fighting. So I don't. Pulling one of my pillows close against my chest, I bury my head into the soft fabric and let my exhaustion take hold.

In dreams I can escape him. It may only be for a little while, but it's complete and utter bliss.

By the time I wake up again two hours later, I find myself greeted by six missed calls and an answer phone message. _Why can't you just leave me alone?_ Sighing, I stare at the screen in defiance and that's when it begins to ring again, that oh so familiar number wanting to get through to me. I'm hoping for a miracle. He's not going to give up. Not now, not ever. No point in fighting it anymore I guess.

When I eventually answer, Tony's voice is fragile in comparison to how it used to be, he's lost his arrogant edge. But it's getting late and no doubt he's tired. I, unfortunately, sound tediously bored as I reply and immediately he accuses me of trying to piss him off intentionally. I assure him that wasn't my incentive and the subject's laid to rest. Our conversation is like a tug a war, a constant battle to put the other in their place. He spends ten minutes attempting to talk me into going to visit him. I spend fifteen minutes telling him why it's a bad idea; a deliciously tempting idea, but a bad one all the same.

That said, thirty minutes later I'm stood in front of his house waiting for someone to come to the door. He always wins somehow. It makes me sick. Effy's the one to answer the door, dressed in a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. She offers a tiny smile and then gestures to the staircase before retreating back to the living room, her hands tucked into her back pockets. I let a breath go, leaning back against the door to close it and let my gaze drift to the stairs, lightly running my tongue over my dry lips.

It's probably easier to get it over with quick, like ripping a plaster off; the sooner I get up there, the sooner I don't have to worry about it anymore. I let my shoulders drop, straighten out my jacket and then jog upstairs, lightly knocking against his bedroom door. There's no reply, he better not be asleep again, not after I bothered coming all the way over. I try again, this time pushing the door open as I do so and peering into the room.

Tony's sat at his computer desk, clicking away on his mouse, his head tilted to the left a little as he reads the information on the screen. Beside him there's a collection of jars containing an array of multicoloured tablets and a large bottle of water. Blimey, Chris would be having a field day.

'Painkillers,' he mutters, moving to shut his computer down and then glancing in my direction. He picks up one of the jars, giving it a small shake, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. 'Pretty, aren't they?'

I'm still stood by the door, hesitantly debating whether to step into the room or not. My gaze meets his a moment later and I give in, closing the door behind me, and leaning back against it. Tony's face looks gaunt and there are black circles under his eyes. A month confined to a hospital bed has taken its toll. He's still healing, his left arm covered in an elaborate display of yellowish bruises and tiny gashes. Several seconds later, he realises that I'm staring and murmurs, 'You think that's bad, you should see this…' At the comment he lifts his shirt to expose his badly bruised ribs and then laughs lightly.

I look away from him, feeling my stomach lurch involuntarily. He may be quite happy to show his wounds off like some kind of trophy, but it's still all too fresh in my mind for me to simply except the fact that I – _we_ nearly lost him.

'I'm glad you're OK, Tony,' I offer eventually, though my teeth are gritted as I say it.

He stares at me for a moment, his curiosity peaked, and then a grin breaks through and he moves to lie across his bed instead. I notice him flinch as he stretches out, but he acts like nothing's wrong and then pats the spot beside him. 'Sit down then,' he says before finally bringing his hands up to rest behind his head.

There's no point in arguing with him, so I do as he says and lean forwards, my hands clasped in front of me and bow my head. I can feel his eyes burning into my back, but I ignore it, staying silent and closing my eyes.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, I force myself to look over and mumble, 'I shouldn't be here.'

Tony smiles in response and then shrugs his shoulders. 'Fine, toddle off home then,' he says and then reaches over to his bedside table, taking a magazine from the drawer and beginning to flick through it. I don't move, I don't speak either and a minute or so later, he peers over the top of his magazine, an eyebrow arched in amusement and observes, 'You're still here.'

Stupid thing to say, we both know I wouldn't have actually gone anywhere. With a sigh, I turn my body towards his, bringing one of my legs up onto the bed and absently begin to play with the ring on my finger. 'Were you ignoring Michelle at the hospital?' I ask him, wanting a few answers. 'I think you've hurt her enough already, don't you? Don't do it anymore, it's not fair.' He laughs and I narrow my eyes toward him. It's hardly funny. Michelle spent every day at his side and he's shown her no appreciation for it.

'Nips is better off without me,' he answers casually, setting his magazine aside and lightly rubbing his arm. 'She's a better person. I'm waiting for her to realise that herself.' His gaze is downcast as he speaks; he doesn't want to make eye contact.

'So what, you told her you loved her that day for a joke?' I shoot, shaking my head in disbelief more than anything. 'That's fucking sick, Tone.' Although, it wouldn't surprise me if that were the case, there's nothing I'd put past Tony nowadays. He hasn't changed. I was a fool to think that he would have.

He's gazing at me, his mouth curled up in the beginnings of a smirk. 'No, but I've had a lot of time to think about things and I've realised I want to give someone else my full attention instead,' he answers, speaking slowly to allow each word to sink in. His words are sinking in alright and all I'm hearing are straight-out lies. 'Like you maybe.'

I gape at him at first and then get to my feet, starting for the door, growling, 'Fuck off Tony, that's bull and you know it is.'

Tugging the door open, I fix my gaze on him again and then sigh very softly, leaning my forehead against the wood. I'm tired of the constant games, especially now. It's neither funny nor entertaining anymore, only tedious. Perhaps when he's done being ashamed of me I can believe what he says, but he's yet to give me a reason to trust him.

'Goodnight, Tony,' I say softly, indicating that it's time to go.

I leave his room as quickly as I entered it and it's only when I reach the street outside I stop running, leaning my body forwards and shutting my eyes as I catch my breath.

What happened to saying goodbye?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

After classes I opt out of heading to the pub with the others and instead make my way straight to the dance studio, closing the door firmly behind me and putting on my tap shoes. I don't have anything specific I need to go through, but it's good for getting my frustration out, and getting it out quickly. Tony has this incredible knack of getting me tied up in knots; fucking nightmare to be honest.

Hitting the play button on the stereo I whip my hoody off, tossing it onto a pile of mats and then walk into the centre of the room, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Sometimes I think that he's changed me, too. The old me wouldn't obsess over a single one night stand. The old me wouldn't fantasise about straight boys naked either, at least non-celebrity straight boys anyway. Tony's inside me though, creeping through my veins like poison, consuming me whole and I'm gradually becoming too weak to fight him anymore. That's why I have to keep away from him. I don't want that to happen.

I sigh, beginning to tap the toe of my right foot along to the beat of the music, and then tug the hat I'm wearing from my head, sending it flying across the room like a Frisbee. Fuck, I have to get him out of my head.

_Hop spring tap step step._ The movements come easily as I push thoughts of Tony to the back of my mind. _Shuffle hop spring tap step step._ Now this is better, this helps. A small smile graces my lips and I close my eyes, continuing the routine with precision, losing myself to the moment. I haven't done this for a while. I'd neglected my dancing and chosen to spend every waking moment worrying about his lord and master. What a fucking waste of time. Shit, I'm thinking about him again. Get a grip Maxxie. _Shuffle ball-change tap step step stamp. _

Spinning around to face the back wall and the clock hung up there, I lace my fingers behind my head. It's getting on for five, I only have until six when the women's aerobics class come in and take over the place. Oh well, it'll do me. Perhaps it's about time I found myself another show to audition for, and with that will come a very welcome distraction. If I threw myself into it hard enough, Tony would become a distant memory… for a few weeks at least. Then again, maybe not, I'm not entirely sure a few weeks is long enough.

_Shuffle shuffle hop spring step._ Facing the mirror once again I end the routine with a hard stamp, the sound echoing around the empty studio, reverberating off the walls. I don't move. I stay put, staring across at my reflection and my flushed cheeks with fierce determination. Several seconds later, the music kicks in again and I flawlessly fall into a new routine, giving it all of my concentration.

A minute or so later, I'm startled out of it as the swing doors behind me bang closed and Tony saunters into view. Shamefully, I end up tripping over my own feet as he catches me unawares. I finally come to a stop facing him, leaning forwards and placing my hands to my legs as I take a moment to get my breath.

'Don't stop on my account,' he says, moving to lean casually against the wall. 'By all means, carry on with what you were doing.'

Narrowing my eyes, I shake my head and then look down at the floor briefly before replying. 'Why are you here Tony?' I question, making my way over to the stereo and turning it off at the wall. The sound of trombones that had so cheerfully filled the room before stops abruptly, to be replaced with the soles of my shoes clacking against the laminate as I walk over toward him. 'Shouldn't you be tucked up in bed or something?'

Tony shrugs, all smiles, although it's clearly forced because he appears so pale and drawn. 'Tried that for a month, soon got boring,' he replies. 'It's a beautiful day, so thought I'd take a walk, and then, somehow, I found myself here. Amazing, isn't it?' He grins again and I feel like punching him.

I wouldn't say it was amazing, planned is what I'd call it. Choosing not to react immediately, I concentrate on gathering my things together again, tossing everything into my bag and putting the stereo away in the cupboard. He infuriates me. And what's more, it only gets worse as the days go by. It makes sense why Michelle forgave him day after day; he has one of those faces.

'What do you want?' The words tumble from my lips venomously and I haphazardly pull my hoody back over my head, blinding myself momentarily as my hair ends up in my eyes. I make a grab for my bag, almost dropping it as I do so and then shove my hat back onto my head. I'm in the process of changing my shoes when he decides to grace me with a reply.

'I was wondering why you seem to have this sudden aversion toward knowing me,' answers Tony, gazing at me with his tired eyes. 'Because, fuck, I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything to piss you off while I was unconscious.' His arms are crossed over his chest now and for the first time since the accident I get a proper look at him in broad daylight. The large bruise that had spanned across his cheekbone last week has faded now, but he still looks so, _s_o tired.

I avoid replying his comment, crossing my arms and mirroring his stance, and then question, 'Have you talked to Michelle yet?'

He chuckles; it's a light merciless laugh, a laugh that doesn't quite register in his pale eyes. 'Will you treat me like a human being if I do?' he questions, moving to stand up straight and then reaching his hand out toward my face. I pull back, subconsciously flinching as his fingertips brush my cheek. 'Guess not.' He lifts his shoulders in a carefree shrug. 'Fucking hell, Max, if you don't want me anymore just say the word and I'll go and play happy families with Michelle.'

Now _that_ is my problem, the way he's quite happy to swap and change without a second thought. He should have learnt his lesson by now. With a frown, I push past him and towards the doors. What's the point anymore? I'm never going to get what I actually want from him, pursuing anything is a waste of my time. But when he reaches out to catch hold of my arm and stop me in my tracks, my breath catches in my throat and I can't lie to myself anymore.

'Six weeks is a long time Maxxie,' he whispers, stepping up against me and then curling his fingers lazily around my throat. If it had been anyone else, I would have found this behaviour threatening, but with Tony it's all part of the game. He offers me a smile and then crushes our lips together without further warning. He's not wrong, six weeks is an _awful_ long time. I feel myself give in, my hand balling into a fist as I latch onto his t-shirt and I lean up into the kiss a little more. It's been a long time coming, but every second of it is mouth-watering. I'm pretty sure if Tony wasn't suffering from a severe case of broken ribs he'd have me up against the wall right now.

Pulling away, breathing hard against his lips, I murmur, 'You should be resting, Tone.'

Tony's taken aback slightly, but then he grins, using my remark to his advantage and grasping hold of my hand. 'OK, you better walk me home then,' he says and tugs me through the doors.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The first thing I realise upon opening my eyes is that I'm definitely not lying in my bed. In fact, I'm not in anyone's bed actually. I blink and push myself up onto my elbows, finding myself sprawled out across the couch in Tony's living room, my bag tossed down dejectedly onto the floor beside me. I suppose it could have been worse, I could have woken up in his bed with him.

With a light sigh, I drop my head back down again, hiding beneath my hood and wishing for a moment I was at home. I can hear loud voices coming from the kitchen and cupboard doors opening and closing and then, to top it off, the living room door bursts open and Mrs Stonem peers around it, beaming from ear to ear. She obviously expects me to be wide-awake. 'Breakfast's on the table, Maxxie, if you'd like some,' she says kindly. I offer her a small smile, but don't move from my comfy spot. She nods, getting the hint, and then leaves me be.

Half an hour must have passed by the time the door opens again, and this time it's Tony, munching his way through a bowl of cereal. He looks a little better this morning. He seems to have gained some colour in his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes are beginning to fade. 'Don't worry, they've gone. You're safe to come out now you tosser,' he teases and I scowl at him. 'We have the house to ourselves.' A mischievous smile briefly flits across his features and he pops another spoonful of Rice Crispies in his mouth, chewing slowly.

Was that supposed to be some kind of come on? If it was, he really needs to think about upping his game.

I move to sit up, stifling a yawn with the back of my hand and then begin to make my excuses. 'I need to get to college,' is the first one and I set about putting my shoes back on as I say it. 'Gotta change, can't stay in these all day,' is my second getaway excuse. This one doesn't have the desired effect. In fact, Tony smiles broadly and then offers me one of his shirts. Oh he'd love that, wouldn't he, having me walking around campus all day wearing his clothes? Saying that, I don't feel inclined to turn him down, having his scent on me for lectures isn't the most horrid of thoughts.

'You could just not go of course,' he adds while I'm waltzing around his room, searching through his drawers for something to wear that's vaguely similar to what I usually wear. 'Keep me company.'

When I glance in his direction, I notice he's watching me very closely, his eyes focused on my back. I've been walking around shirtless for the last couple of minutes, a sight he's enjoying apparently. 'No,' I answer him after a stagnant pause, finally digging out a black and grey long-sleeved t-shirt and holding it up in front of me. It'll do. 'I'm not shagging you, Tony,' I add after I've pulled the shirt over my head.

'I don't want you to,' replies Tony coolly and I almost believe him for a second there. But he wouldn't have been making such a big deal out of having an empty house if he didn't want something, and the logical thing Tony would want after being stuck in hospital for so long would be a quick fuck. He can think again if he assumes he can get that out of me whenever he wants.

After giving myself a final once-over in the mirror, I turn back to him and retort, 'Yeah, OK.' Leaving his room, buckling my belt as I go, I walk slowly across the landing. 'What the fuck _do_ you want from me then, Tone? Because you have Sid and Michelle back now, so why would you want to spend every waking hour with me?' I query with a shrug, leaving him with food for thought and then jogging down the staircase, lifting my record bag over my head. He follows without protest, but he's noticeably annoyed at being blown off.

When I make to head out of the front door, he finally stops me, slamming his hand against the wooden panels and narrowing his eyes toward me. Yeah, I've definitely managed to piss him off. 'I told you yesterday, Maxxie, if you don't want me, say so. I could have had Michelle round last night and put her to her uses,' he says and his comment only reinforces my earlier thought. Tony's horny. He wants me to stay with him today so that I can help relieve some of his tension. Fuck no; I'm not playing that game with him.

I shove him out of the way with my shoulder and open the door, catching his gaze. 'It's me or her, no ifs or buts, make up your fucking mind. I'm not just an excuse for a blowjob, Tony, get a fucking clue,' I say, keeping my voice low.

Nothing else needs to be said and I set off, sprinting towards the college, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Maybe it was a stupid thing to say to him, I don't know, but I don't want to be played anymore. If he does really want me, like he said, it's about time he made a couple of sacrifices, Michelle being the ultimate one. Things had been bad enough after the history trip; I don't want to be responsible for hurting her again. She doesn't deserve that, no one does. Tony's hardly going to come running to me with open arms, but at least he now has the opportunity to prove himself.

College that afternoon drags and I can feel people's eyes upon me during our open lecture. Mostly it's just Michelle and Jal, so I think nothing of it. I shrink down into my seat, taking a few notes and smiling to myself as I inhale the scent of Tony's aftershave.

The bell sounds and I'm halfway out of the door when Michelle collars me for the second time that week. I glance at her, smiling awkwardly and she beams in return. It's nice, I haven't seen her that happy in a while.

'Thank you for talking to Tony for me,' she says, falling into step with me as I head toward the main doors of the building. 'He called me at lunch. I don't know what you said to him, but it worked.'

I don't reply. I don't think I can. I've just died inside. Michelle had been smiling, Michelle had actually shown signs of happiness; I should have realised right away.

She continues to relay the conversation they'd had to me as we step outside, and all the while I'm biting on the inside of my cheek, drawing blood, trying in vain not to cry in front of her. Red hot tears are prickling behind my eyes and I can no longer hear her, only the sound of my heart beating. I fucking fell for it again. Tony Stonem and his pathetic games. How do I keep doing it?

_Because you're obsessed, Maxxie, that's how._

I wouldn't go as far as to say that I'm in love with Tony. That would be stupid. Michelle's the one who loves him. I am, however, in love with the _idea_ of Tony. The thought of having him to myself and him being at my beck and call is a euphoric one. I'm infatuated with an idea. I'm clinging onto what little hope I have left and I keep trying to make something out of nothing. But when he's with me, when he's touching me, it doesn't seem like an idea anymore because his desire is as strong as mine. Surely I can't have imagined _everything_.

I'm regretting not staying with him this morning now and that's pathetic. But maybe if I'd stayed he wouldn't have called Michelle at all. There's always a chance. Then again, if I'd stayed put I would have been giving myself over as some kind of toy for him to play with and things would have ended up being on Tony's terms. That's the last thing I want. I'm through with him trying to manipulate me.

No more giving in. No more. If he decides to change his mind, he's going to have to work for it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The first time any of us get a clue that something is wrong is on Tony's fifth day back at college. He's sat on a picnic bench, it's lunchtime and he's alone. Tony doesn't like being alone, he thrives to be the centre of everyone's universe whether they like it or not, so his behaviour is particularly unusual.

The second time is on the following Thursday when classes are done for the day. I'm strolling across the green with my sketchbook tucked under my arm and he's sat beneath a tree, his head tilted toward the sky and a joint balanced precariously between his lips. He's alone again and I find this strange because Tony has never really _chosen_ to spend time on his own before now.

Michelle is missing today, too. When I asked Jal if she was OK before we headed into psychology, she shook her head, scowled at me and then marched into the classroom without a word. Why do I get the feeling that I only know half of the story? I pause in the middle of the grass, looking over at Tony and debating whether to go over there or not. I'm curious now and I know if anyone's going to have the answers to my questions, it'll be Tony.

I'm probably the last person he wants to talk to though so I continue walking, finally settling down cross-legged over on the other side of the green. From here I have a perfect view of his silhouette, but at the same time, the chance of him noticing me is a very slim one. It's wonderful. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I flip my sketchbook open to a blank page, pull a pencil from the confinements of my bag and begin to map out his outline.

Upon careful observation I notice that he has his mobile phone in his hand, his thumb darting over the buttons rapidly and his eyes downcast. I leave the phone out of the sketch, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I start on his features instead.

Tracing his jaw line, my head tilting to the right in concentration, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. My smile soon fades and I put my drawing down at the same time Tony places his phone aside. Unsurprisingly, the text is from him, but it's nothing worth writing home about.

_Party at mine tomorrow. You coming?_

I'd love to say no to him, but I don't have it in me to turn down the invitation. He hasn't discarded me entirely then. I'm still a worthy party guest at least. I may not be worthy of anything else mind, but at least he's happy to let me drink his vodka and get high in his living room. Might turn out to be interesting, I guess it depends upon who's invited. No point in gracing him with a reply though, he's going to have to wait and see if I turn up or not.

With a smile, I put my phone away once more and continue my drawing. It's not the first time I've sat around like this and etched an unaware Tony. He's nice to draw; I'm hardly going to dismiss opportunities that are laid out before me.

Thirty minutes have passed before Tony makes any effort to get up, and when he does, he catches me by surprise, looking right over in my direction. Oh shit. The sketchbook falls guiltily from my hands and I can already feel my cheeks burning. That was _not_ supposed to happen. We've made eye contact now and he's on his way over. Fuck, why couldn't he just stay where he was?

Sighing in frustration, I hurry to pack everything away in my bag and scramble to my feet. I don't want to talk to him; he was the one who decided to pay no attention to me in favour of spending all of his time with Michelle. I don't feel much like humouring him either. Pulling my bag onto my shoulder, I begin to walk back across the green acting as though I haven't noticed him. Unfortunately, Tony's not in the mood to let me go and I hear him call my name. I continue to ignore him, wondering how long I can get away with it for.

'Maxxie, you fucking retard! What are you, deaf?!' He's out of breath when he finally catches up with me, and I can't help but smile to myself; Tony Stonem chasing after me, now _that_ I call progress.

I glance over my shoulder at him, acting carefree. 'Sorry, Tone, I guess I didn't hear you,' I reply, shrugging. That's the only eye contact I offer him, my gaze moving back to where I'm going as I jump over a low wall near the edge of the green. 'Did you want something?' I add after a lengthy silence.

Tony grabs hold of my arm, forcing me to stop walking and then spins my body around so that we're face-to-face. Apparently he did. He's holding me so tightly that I'm almost sure I'll have imprints where his fingers were once he lets go. Making sure he catches my eye by leaning down slightly, Tony's cheeks are tinged with pink as he ashamedly supplies, 'I miss you.'

'Fuck off, no you don't!' my reply is quick and I laugh, pushing away from him slightly, because it's the only thing I can think to do. He resists and I shake him off, turning away and rubbing at my arms. He can snap his fingers all he wants, but I'm not coming running this time. I shoot him one last feral glance and then march off, my arms folded indignantly. It's an act. A part of me desperately wants to believe him. I refuse to simply surrender though; he's put me through enough already.

He doesn't come after me, which isn't exactly a surprise, and forty-five minutes later I'm letting myself in through my front door. Pushing the door closed behind me, I turn back to the hall and I can hear music floating through the house from the living room. I smile, looking to the door a second, but decide against going to say hello and instead head straight upstairs to my bedroom. Family time can come later when I've sorted my head out.

Once I'm in the safety of my room, I sit down on the end of my bed, kick my shoes off and then move to cross my legs beneath me so I'm sitting Indian style. I take a deep breath, setting my bag aside, pushing my jacket off my shoulders and then exhaling slowly as I turn my gaze to the window in front of me. Had Tony really meant what he said? I'm not entirely sure that I can trust a single word he says anymore. I want to, God I want to, but how the fuck can I after everything that's happened? Fuck, it's turning into a nightmare.

Dropping my head down wearily, I come face-to-face with Pebble, mum's kitten, and he's staring at me with those massive blue eyes of his. Fucking pain in the arse. He's nothing but a ball of grey fluff with eyes, but mum seems to think he's something special. I'm never going to get rid of him now though. Bloody thing.

I sigh, patting the spot beside me and he jumps up immediately, taking advantage and walking his way across my lap. His claws are like needles and I wince slightly as I reach over to tug my sketchbook from my bag again. Pebble stops wandering around and chooses to curl up on my knee, watching my every action with curiosity. Typical, he's as nosy as mum is. I try to ignore him, flipping through the pages of the book in my hands and back to the drawing of Tony I'd been working on. I'd pretty much managed to finish his rough outline before I'd been caught. All it needed now was a bit of shading.

For a moment I twirl my pencil around in-between my fingers, smiling down at the picture. If Tony wasn't spending time with Michelle anymore; surely this had to be a good sign. OK, it probably wasn't very good for Michelle, but for me this was fantastic news and tomorrow night I'd find out for definite.

The thought makes me smile and as I begin to shade Tony's features on the piece of paper in front of me, my hopes are lifted somewhat. Pebble's taken an interest in my pencil now, swatting at it with a flailing paw and then toppling over onto his back, looking confused. I raise an eyebrow at him and laugh, muttering, 'Idiot.' He returns my stare for a moment and then with a swish of his tail, jumps back down onto the carpet, racing out of the room. Stupid cat. I refuse to believe they're supposed to be intelligent creatures. Pebble's the dumbest cat I've had the misfortune to meet.

An hour later, I tear the drawing from the book with a flourish and crawl across my bed on my hands and knees over to my pin board. I've had it for years, it's gone everywhere with me; every scrap of paper, every photograph telling a completely different story. My eyes are drawn immediately to the group picture which had been taken a few minutes before we'd boarded our plane to Russia. Everyone looked so happy, not one of us with a care in the world. That had been the day everything changed. We'd come back from that trip as different people. Some of us more than others, but still, it had been an experience.

I sigh and then pull a drawing pin from the board, placing it in-between my clenched teeth a moment as I decide upon the best spot for my sketch.

Some shuffling is required, so I move several photo's of myself with Chris and Anwar and a rough drawing of Pebble from earlier in the summer, finally nestling the new picture in-between a photo of Sid and Cassie and an advert for an audition that I've cut-out from the latest edition of the Stage. I hadn't simply been thinking on a whim when I'd considered trying out for a new show.

Sitting back on my heels, I observe my work. Not bad at all. I've definitely done better in the past, but for a rush job it isn't half bad.

With a grin I fall back onto the expanse of my bed, letting my eyes fall closed. Today has been a pretty good day and tomorrow things might just get a little better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

By the time I show up at Tony's the party is already in full swing. It's eleven thirty and there's someone passed out on the front steps, stripped down to their underwear with a bottle of vodka smashed across the slabs beside them. The boom of dance music can be heard several doors down and all the windows have been thrown open to let out the heat. The night's clear and overhead the moon is bright, the rooftops licked with silver.

With my hands dug deep into my pockets I step around the anonymous body and hop up the final steps leading to the red front door. It's been left open a crack, so I step straight inside without worrying about someone having to let me in, and then begin to follow the trail of devastation that is now the hallway.

I end up in the kitchen, where I find Chris sat at the table entertaining several blonde girls - they look much too young to be from the college. There's a cluster of shot glasses and six or so multi-coloured bottles lined up in front of them, liquid sloshed all over the wood. He looks up as I reach the back door, his eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses that only aid in making him look like a grasshopper. Upon spotting me, he grins and then slides an arm around one of his female companions. 'What time do you fucking call this? Get drinking, you're behind,' he says, gesturing towards the bottles in front of him with his free hand.

Deciding that I plan to stay sober tonight, at least to begin with, I shake my head, replying, 'Think I'll pass,' and then flash him a grin before stepping outside into the garden.

It's heaving with people I don't recognise, groups huddled together on the patio smoking and drinking their cares away, girls dancing provocatively together in the middle of the grass, hands everywhere. The night is hot and feverish, too clammy and uncomfortable to be sitting around indoors. At least that explains why I could hear the music so well while I was around the front of the house.

I weave my way in-between chairs, tables and scantily clad teens and when I finally reach the other side of the grass; I stumble across Sid and Cassie. It's nothing out of the ordinary. Sid is sat on the swinging seat, smoking on a joint, and Cassie is stood just in front of him, swaying to the music echoing around the garden and humming incessantly. By the time I reach them, Cassie is looking over at me with wide-eyes, an almost inhuman grin firmly in place.

'Maxxie, wow, hi,' she murmurs by way of a greeting, her hands slowly working their way up into her wild hair as she continues to stare hopefully at me. 'Dance with me? Sid won't.'

Sid looks as though he's about to protest, but we both ignore him.

It's difficult to say no to Cassie; so I do dance with her, three times actually, maybe four, I lose count. The distraction's nice though. This may very well be Tony's house, I may be in his territory, but at least I have friends here too if it all goes wrong.

By the time I leave Sid and Cassie to their own devices, a joint nestling happily in my back pocket for later, it's pushing midnight. I hook my thumbs casually into the belt loops of my jeans and head back toward the house, glancing around a little.

I've yet to come across Tony, which I find strange and kind of annoying really. Surely he should be hanging around causing chaos, or if not that, at least overseeing the drinking. There's a group of six or seven crowded around a small metal table on the patio, knocking back the shots and slugging their way through a litre bottle of Bacardi. I don't recognise them either. Fucking depressing.

A soft sigh leaves my lips as I step up to the back door, preparing to back inside and talk to Chris, but I don't get any further. My hand has been seized from behind and within thirty seconds I find myself around the side of the house and being shoved unceremoniously into the fence. I'm given no time to protest by my captor, he's already pressed his own body up against mine and started work on undoing my belt. Here we go again. Tony really does like to make an entrance.

If he wants to recreate Brighton in his back garden, he can think again. In Brighton I didn't feel so inhibited. In Brighton I could pretend he was someone else. In Brighton I couldn't hear our friend's laughter in the distance. Here though, everything is real, it's all so raw and it scares me to death.

I push him away, my eyes narrowing to slits. 'Fucks sake Tony, fuck off,' I growl and the words come out a little more venomously than I would have liked them to. A part of me wants to apologise to him, but I bite down on my lip and resist. Tony wouldn't apologise. Instead I gaze over at him, listening to the sound of the party raging around us. He's slumped against the wall of the house, watching me as he toys with his hair, a lethargic smile upon his face.

'What?' I can't take it anymore and I snap.

Tony's languid smile turns into a broad grin and he lifts his shoulders nonchalantly. 'When are you going to admit it, Max?' he questions, looking pleased with himself.

Thankfully his question is easy enough to ignore and I do just that. I lower my eyes, do my belt back up and then walk away from him.

It's up to him if he follows or not.

When I reach the house, I make a beeline for the stairs, taking them two at a time and then slipping into Tony's bedroom unseen. It's unoccupied, thank fuck, so I gently push the door to, sit on the end of his bed and stare down at my feet. Several minutes later I hear a soft click as the door's closed. My eyes stay glued to my sneakers as he sits down beside me and there we stay, simply sitting, in complete silence. For all I know we sit there for hours, neither of us entirely sure what to do or what to say. It isn't uncomfortable though, it's needed.

Eventually, Tony leans into me, his lips dangerously close to my ear and whispers, 'Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant of such weak fibre that the treacherous air of absence withers what was once so fair?'

That's right Tony, talk complete bollocks, that'll solve everything. I'd like to punch him right now, I really would. One hard punch, square to the nose, a punch that would give him some idea of how much he's hurt me over these past few weeks. Tony has always seemed so void of emotion, sometimes I wonder if he feels anything at all, for me or anyone for that matter…

'No more games now?' my words are softly spoken and I apprehensively turn my gaze toward him.

He smiles and shakes his head, lifting his hand to smooth down the hair behind my ear. 'Promise,' he answers. I can never tell anymore when Tony's being genuine and when he isn't. He's perfected lying so well that it's anyone's guess these days. 'If I tell you I love you will it help?'

I duck away from him, squeezing my eyes closed and digging my nails into my palms. 'No it won't help,' I retort. 'Fuck, Tone.'

My replies are getting quieter with each word. Had this been his plan all along? Beat me into submission? Make me doubt everything and then fix it all with an 'I love you'? It doesn't mean anything though, those words mean fuck all when they come from the lips of Tony Stonem. They're words, nothing more; their meaning is completely irrelevant when he wants something.

'I'm sorry?' he tries, an encouraging smile on his face as he nudges me. But he shouldn't have to ask, he should just _say it_.

Looking at him again, my mouth turning down into a small frown, I offer him a uniform reply, 'You're supposed to mean it, Tony.' I glance back to my hands, quite content in just twiddling my thumbs for a moment. 'What happened with Michelle?'

Tony sits back again slightly, taking the hint for now, and then laughs dryly. I wish he wouldn't act as though everything I say is hilarious. 'Oh, that? It wasn't working out. Told her I'd had better,' he answers me, his eyebrows shooting up insinuatingly. 'I told her I'd had _much_ better actually. What do you reckon?'

I can't help it, but a small smile twitches at the corners of my mouth. No wonder Tony always thinks he can get exactly what he wants from me, I give in to him so reluctantly. My smile unwillingly breaks through and inside I'm cursing myself. Fucking hell, I really need to keep my emotions in check. Being transparent around Tony isn't a good thing. He's watching me again, seemingly amused as he leans back on his hands and waits for my response. I don't know what to say to him, there's nothing I can say to him.

'Maxxie?' Tony ducks his head down a little so that he can see my face when he speaks. I don't look over; eye contact isn't something I can manage right now.

What happens next though, I couldn't have predicted. He extends his arm, his fingers lightly running through my hair, his nails tracing the back of my neck, actions all so soft and gentle that I almost forget who's touching me.

Shit, I'd forgotten what this was like… what _he_ was like.

My gaze moves gradually to his face and he nods encouragingly, granting permission. I didn't need it though. Reaching out with my right hand, I timidly trace his jaw line with my fingertips and his eyes fall closed at the contact. Good sign. I edge closer, all the while becoming more confident. He's not playing with me anymore.

Trembling fingers find black fabric a moment later and for the first time I take the lead. And he lets me. He sits there and lets me do what I want. My lips meet his hesitantly, but he returns the kiss without hesitation and I lean in closer to him, grasping at his clothes in desperation. If he takes this away from me again now it'll kill me.

Tony settles a hand against my thigh, the pad of his thumb moving in a lazy circular motion. At the same time he's fighting to take control of the kiss, his tongue battling with mine in a feverish duel. He's not having control tonight though, no matter how much he wants it. The moment becomes more frantic and as it does, I tangle my hands in his sweater, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.

I stare at him and he stares back, eyes dilated and breathing hard. God, he's beautiful, but that's something I don't want to admit to. I'll never say the words. Practically everyone in Bristol, at one point or another, has helped to stroke Tony's ego, he doesn't need me to do it too. Besides, there are much better things I could be stroking.

Leaning in again, I don't grace him with a kiss but instead pause to whisper, 'Tell me you want me, Tony,' against his lips. I tilt my head in anticipation, raking my nails down his chest and causing him to flinch. He's still healing even though the bruises have faced.

He sighs, impatiently, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. At first he doesn't reply, instead he kisses me hard, showing me who's boss, his hands moving to relieve me of my shirt.

Once the striped cotton has met the carpet, Tony gets to his feet, still gazing at me, and then undoes his belt and jeans in one swift motion, dropping them to the floor. He smiles, sickly sweet, offering me a casual reply, 'You fucking know I do.'

He's not wrong, I guess I always have.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

When I open my eyes I realise that I've nodded off for a couple of minutes. I'd promised myself I wouldn't do that last night. Oh well, too late now. I blink my eyes slowly, adjusting to the sunlight streaming into the room through the open windows. Everything is exactly as it was last night. The door is still shut tight and the house below lies in silence.

Letting my eyes travel downwards, I find Tony curled up beside me; his head nestled comfortably against my side and one arm draped across my stomach. He's asleep, at least it looks as though he is, and he's mumbling incoherently under his breath. I risk a smile, lightly walking my fingertips across his shoulder as he dozes. If we were somewhere else and we were someone else, this would all be so perfect. But we're not, we're Maxxie and Tony, and this isn't going to be easy for anyone anymore.

I sigh, anxiously nibbling on my lower lip and then duck my head down to slowly inhale the scent of his hair. Heaven on earth. He smells of apples, fresh and clean, and for now I'm happy to pretend we can stay this way forever.

Once again, sleep weaves its mesmerising spell over me and I fall away into oblivion, my fingers tangled in Tony's dark hair and my lips pressed to his ear in a feather light kiss. He doesn't stir.

Around an hour later I'm woken with a jolt as the alarm clock on Tony's bedside table springs to life, a ceaseless chirping that sounds in my left ear for the best part of a minute. He makes no conscious effort to move. 'Are you going to turn that off?' I question tiresomely, my words lost against his tangled hair.

He sighs heavily and then without a word, sits up dozily, leaning across me and shutting the alarm off with a click.

The room falls silent.

There's nothing.

I'm not sure what do to with myself. So I lie still and wait for him to do something instead, wait for him to make the first move. Tony's good at that, it shouldn't be a problem.

His eyes finally drift to mine several minutes later and he smiles. It's a real smile. The kind of smile that twinkles in a persons eyes and makes your heart thunder in your chest. It's the kind of smile he used to give Michelle before he messed everything up. Charming and honest, and all the things you imagine a smile to be. I feel honoured to be on the receiving end.

Tony has never been one to offer much to a person, and what he does offer usually needs to be taken with a pinch of salt - it is rarely truthful. Tony may act as though he doesn't care most days, but he is unconditionally loyal toward his friends.

I had expected him to throw me out this morning. Another stupid mistake and what on earth had I been thinking? Here're your clothes, there's the door, please use it. It wouldn't have been a surprise, because it's what always happens. Not today though, today Tony's happy of my company and he's running a finger down my throat with languid fascination.

Letting out a soft sigh, enjoying the attention, I return his smile. 'Can we stay here all day?' the question is asked before I get the chance to stop myself. There I go again, heart on my sleeve. But Tony simply grins at me and then swoops down to press a kiss to my mouth. It's over before it's even begun and then he's clambered out of bed.

I'm slightly disappointed but don't show it, instead move to prop myself up on my elbows and watch him from behind my hair. He hasn't bothered to take the sheet with him and is stood in front of his desk in just his boxers, tipping tablets out of bottles and knocking them back without a care in the world. I was pretty sure he would have been done taking things by now, seems not.

Tony puts down his bottle of water, picks up his jeans and wrestles his way into them, before intently settling his gaze back up on me. 'Maybe tomorrow,' he suggests and then without another word, heads out of his room.

A moment later I can hear him padding barefooted down the staircase and shortly after the sound of voices fill the air. Shrieks and shouts and girls giggling, last night's partygoers taken by surprise. I collapse back onto the bed laughing to myself and then, letting a breath go, I slip from beneath the covers and begin to collect my clothes together.

Five minutes later I'm making my way down the staircase and stepping over the random body of a redhead, she's out cold; her head leant back against the wall and her make-up smudged. For a moment I stay frozen to the spot, trying to decide whether I know her or not. I think she's from our psychology class. Who knows. She got pretty wasted last night, that much is clear.

I shrug my shoulders, more to myself than anyone else, and then make my through the house, looking for Tony as I go. I don't envy the mess he's going to have to clear up when everyone leaves. Suppose I could always offer to help out. Then again, might give him the impression I want to get involved in domesticated bliss. Better not.

When I reach the patio doors I spot Tony through the glass, he's sat in the middle of the lawn with Sid and Chris and clutching a carton of orange juice in his hands. I take a quick detour through the kitchen to grab a drink of water and then join the trio outside, sitting down beside Sid and resting my chin on my knees.

'Who the fuck is that?' Chris blurts out suddenly, pointing across the garden and clumsily dropping the joint he'd been smoking. Sid jumps a mile in beside me, swearing under his breath, darting back and narrowly escaping burnt eyebrows. Not a good look for anybody. The person who has gained Chris' attention so rapidly is curled up fast asleep beneath one of the trees, a piece of thick rope in their hands and a black and white trilby on their head. Leaning forwards slightly I try and get a better look, but their face is hidden behind the hat.

This seems to have sparked an interest with Tony though and he's back to standing, marching over towards them. 'Let's go and find out, shall we?' he says and we all reluctantly follow. As always, what Tony says goes and we do as instructed.

I crouch down beside Tony at the same time he removes the hat and we all stare, wide-eyed.

'Who the fuck _is_ that?!' asks Chris again, but his words are more pronounced this time. There's a collective silence and we all shrug. No idea. 'Oh fuck it.'

He gets up again and walks off, kicking at an empty beer bottle and sending it scuttling across the path. I glance back at him a moment, laughing lightly, before my eyes are quickly drawn back to Tony. He's grinning, quite manically actually and then a second later he deposits the hat on Sid's head and stands back up. 'Nice to have things back to normal,' he says and then throws an arm around both myself and Sid when we join him. 'Right?'

Sid's reply isn't unexpected as he asks Tony if he's been on the vodka already this morning. I decide against saying anything until Sid has jogged off to join Chris in raiding the refrigerator. We're stood alone in the middle of the garden, it's six thirty in the morning and there are birds chirping overhead. It's not cold, anything but. The sun is low in the sky yet I can already feel the scorching rays against my cheek.

I close my eyes, and for a brief moment I'm back in Brighton; sitting on the beach, running my fingers over the smooth pebbles and watching Tony wading in the water. Who knows, maybe we could go back sometime, for a real holiday, all of us.

'When I get rid of everyone, meet me upstairs,' whispers Tony into my ear suddenly and I'm knocked straight from my thoughts and into a whole new scenario as he places a very light kiss to my neck. 'I'm not done with you yet,' he adds as a lazy afterthought.

By the time I risk opening my eyes he's already halfway across the garden, collecting cans up and shouting abuse at the random party guests asleep on the patio furniture. 'C'mon, get the fuck outta my house! Party's over!' A gaggle of girls scramble to their feet and make a dash for the gate around the side of the house, barefooted with four inch stilettos in their hands.

I watch for a moment and then set off across the grass, picking up empty beer bottles as I go and dropping them one by one into the wheelie bin. I can hear the sound of Cassie's cheerful singing coming from one of the bedroom windows and I smile to myself, my eyes lifting as I locate her whereabouts.

If this is what we're calling normality now, I'm happy with it.


End file.
